


you know what you know

by writedeku



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Coma dreams, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, NOT NOT NOT NOT READER INSERT, Not Reader Insert, scary hospitals, the world is not kind to tony stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 07:07:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8568949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writedeku/pseuds/writedeku
Summary: You are- you’ve got to remember- you are Tony Stark. Do you- you- who are you?You look at your hands. You do not remember. You walk through a wall, the illusion fades behind you. What is real? You have a gun in your hands. Who are you? Who are you? It is not a gun, it is a blaster, it attaches itself to your arm. You watch the metal unfold and wrap around you. You see blue eyes. You do not know who you are, but you knew him in a heartbeat.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing from a "you" perspective, but keep in mind the fact that THIS IS NOT A READER INSERT. 
> 
> TW for a kind of shoot in the head but its a dream sequence.

You are- you’ve got to remember- you are Tony Stark. Do you- you- who are you?

You look at your hands. You do not remember.

 **XxX**  

You had awakened in this brightly lit hospital a week ago. The nurses gushed, “Mr. Jeffrey Miller, how’re you feeling?" 

You asked, “Jeffrey?”

They said, “temporary memory loss upon awakening from a coma is normal, not worrying, Mr. Miller.”

“Has anyone come to visit me?” 

“I’m sorry Mr. Miller.”

“Where am I?”

“A hospital, Mr. Miller. You’re lucky to be awake.”

 **XxX**  

You do not know who you are, but- you know the name Jeffrey Miller is not yours. You can feel it, a deep, unsettling feeling in your chest- or maybe, that’s the blue device protruding out of the middle of your chest.

“What is this?” You ask, the second time the nurses come. They fix your saline drip; they spoon mashed potatoes into your mouth. They do not answer you. You bug them, you annoy them, you ask again and again until you choke on the potatoes, then finally one tells you.

“There was an accident, Mr. Miller. Technological advancements have saved your life.” 

You wonder why they couldn’t have just told you that straight up.

**XxX**

When they leave the room, you look at the white ceiling. You wonder why you are here, but your brain is foggy and you’re tired and those damned mashed potatoes-

 **XxX**  

You wake at nightfall. The world is quiet. The world is wide, so wide, and you swing your legs over the side of the bed. The world spins, it’s so wide. You know you do not belong here. You _know._

From the window, there is a voice you thought you recognised, a smile, a laugh, a fleeting glimpse of someone not Jeffrey Miller and not you, but when you went over to look, all you saw were mountains, dark looming shapes against the most beautiful of skies. 

 _It’s like a star in the room_ , someone laughs. _It’s so bright._  

The voice beckons you, but the window is bolted shut.

**XxX**

You are let out the next day to go to the mess hall for breakfast. There are people there. You do not know any of them. You sit next to a blue eyed man who says, “so what happened to you?” 

“An accident,” you mumble. Your hands find the blue device. The man does not have it. 

“That’s all of us, buddy,” the man stares vacantly. You feel put off by the watery blue of his eyes. They are meant to be deeper- and just like that, the thought is gone.

You do not eat the potatoes, and only pretend to go to sleep on the table.

 **XxX**  

Your companion is out cold when you hesitantly blink open your eyes and look around the room. Everyone is out cold. You stand. You pocket the plastic spoon. You _know_. 

You are walking around the kitchen when the same voice calls from the stove. “You are following the recipe, aren’t you?”

You feel compelled to answer. “I think it’ll taste better with thyme.”

You do not know where the words come from. But you know what you know. You have to leave.

**XxX**

The alarms are wailing, you know it is because of you. What do you know? Who are you, Jeffrey Miller? Who are you?

You walk through a wall, the illusion fades behind you. What is real? You have a gun in your hands. Who are you? Who are _you?_ It is not a gun, it is a blaster, it attaches itself to your arm. You watch the metal unfold and wrap around you. 

You see those blue eyes.

You do not know who you are, but you knew him in a heartbeat.

Steve, Steve, Steve who betrayed you and hit you and left you to _die,_ Steve who was above reproach who was unimpeachable whose moral compass always steered him right _Steve Rogers Steve Rogers Steve-_ who despite being all the _good_ in this world despite being the ideal the man the goal, he swung his fist and dented your skull and left you in a brightly lit hospital with drugs in the mashed potatoes and stars in the sky and the name Jeffrey Miller. Steve who felt the world was too small for the both of you. Steve who _erased_ you.

The metal attaches itself to your leg. No, no, not this Steve. His Steve, his Steve taught him how to make lasagne. His Steve needed help. 

Jeffrey Miller would go and help him-  help help helP HELP.

Jeffrey Miller awakes in to hands grasping at his throat.

“Bad dreams are common, Mr. Miller,” a kindly nurse says. “Don’t take it too hard.”

**XxX**

They release you after two months staring at white walls. You wander the streets of Amsterdam and know you are missing something still. You have a job. You’re smart, succinct, persuasive, built for the stage- you hide your blue device under your three pieces as you say, “your honour, may I call the first witness?" 

You walk at night along the river and the lights bouncing off the water looks almost blue and you think, you think of a man with blue eyes and a face you cannot pin down. You reach at nothing and come back with your hands full of times and dates you know not what you mean.

“Jeffrey,” your lady says, her voice jarring. She has red hair that falls to her shoulders. “Come back to bed.”

You look at her.

She is gone the next day.

**XxX**

Your newspaper boy says, “I got great aim,” and sure enough the next paper hits you right on your blue device.

You think he is deaf because he never hears you calling. You throw the paper back at him gently to catch his attention and it passes right through him.

“See you around, Mr. Miller!”

He comes the next day. The knife in your hand goes right through his head and embeds itself in a tree. A lady shrieks. Your newspaper boy says, “I got great aim,” and carries on his way.

**XxX**

You are defending a case about a man with anger management issues. You talk and talk for hours until you realise you’re staring at a green wall, and the only one hearing you is the ant in the corner.

**XxX**

You think you’re going insane. You think you were are is insane.

**XxX**

You fly around the world. You go London, Bhutan, Singapore, Nepal- you look for yourself, the anti-Jeffrey Miller in everything, in every carving on the wall, every flower in the field.

You go Brooklyn, where a blonde man stands on a parapet and falls to the ground. You utter an exclamation, but he passes right through the pedestrians and you stare at the ground.

South Carolina, where you start to run out of money.

You make an impulse decision to fly to New York. In New York- you remembered a life of glamour. A life you are sure is solely imagination. Once you land, you know this is your home this is your place this is your everything your being your life. You know.

You turn down the street and that’s when you see- a man with eyes of the bluest green mouthing, “Tony?”

You fall to your knees. You _know_ oh how you know now and the man with the eyes is pushing through the crowd to get to you and there’s screams and bells tolling but you understand, for once in your life, you understand. You know you cannot stay.

You pull out the gun from your coat.

The man is shouting now, begging now, “no, no, I am _here_.”

He finally reaches you. He stoops to your level. 

“I’m here,” his voice catches.

You shoot him in the head.

**XxX**

The bullet lodges in somewhere firm but it is not in a skull- it’s in a brick wall mural of the American flag. You are still in South Carolina You spent your last buck on a gun. The bang was loud. There are people coming. You understand. You turn the gun to yourself.

You say, “I am not Jeffrey Miller.”

You know what you know.

The pain is brief yet sharp.

**XxX**

There is a man holding you when you wake. “Tony, tony,” he cries. “Tony.”

You mumble sluggishly, “I forgive you.” 

Steve cries harder.

**XxX**

You know you’re awake for real when you see your newspaper boy come into the room with your lady and your client. 

“Tony,” they say. “Awake at last." 

Tony Stark. Yes, that’s right.

“We never meant to let it get so far.”

You close your eyes; smile. “I forgive you too. Always.”

You remember now. You remember a fight and a woman with claws of sharpest silver, you remember one in your head, you remember watching them leave thinking you left ahead of them, thinking you _ran_.

“You shouldn’t,” your newspaper boy scuffs his feet- it’s Clint, oh Clint. “We didn’t look out for you. We thought you ran. We left you there to die.”

“You think I care so little for you that a minor thing like that could make me hate you?” You curl instinctively in on yourself.

Steve reaches for you.

You reach back.

The world was so wide, and now its wider.

Wide enough, perhaps, for the both of you.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! Tell me what ya think and if you want more "you" perspectives.


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